


Words That We Couldn't Say

by Prismatic Bell (Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Angst and Feels, D-Point, F/F, Feels, Gen, Queer Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor/pseuds/Prismatic%20Bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiny is rushing fast on spiteful fairy wings to claim her for the ice. But before it does, she has a moment to reflect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words That We Couldn't Say

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a Tumblrfic written for the prompt " _AmiMako, things you never said at all._."

Almost time.

 

"I won’t die," she says, and she knows it’s not true; so does Mars. So does Venus. But Usagi—Usagi—sweet Usagi, who Mercury finds it too hard to call by a soldier’s title—

 

It’s not the best lie Ami’s ever told in her life—in fact she thinks it’s one of the worse ones—but Usagi swallows it.

 

And so her friends walk away, and leave her behind with a body and a pile of ice. She doesn’t have much time, but she has a little, and she manages to scale the spikes of ice with very little trouble. She twines her fingers, still warm, through Jupiter’s, already cold.

 

Jupiter. Mako. The tall girl from the arcade who loved cats. Who awkwardly brought Ami sushi for lunch one day, not looking at her as she tried to explain that Ami shouldn’t have to eat sandwiches for lunch every single day. Who let out an embarrassed gasp when the worn and faded sleeve of her school uniform caught in a door and tore away at the seam, and asked Ami to teach her the strong and flat stitch Ami used to put it back together.

 

Mako, who asked no questions when Ami turned up on her doorstep at two in the morning with tears on her face and the hems of her pajamas damp from the rain; who ushered her inside, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, plopped her down on the sofa and put a mug of tea in her hands.

 

Mako. Who told Ami to stay the night. Who didn’t question the impulse that led Ami to sleep with her henshin wand in her hand, hidden under the pillow. Who took out her own wand and mirrored Ami so they could sleep face to face. In the middle of the night Ami was vaguely aware of metal striking metal with a gentle _clink,_ and realized it was the wand in Mako’s hand, moving against her own.

 

In the morning Mako lent Ami a shirt long enough for her to belt at the waist and call a dress. Ami spent four hours in the empty kitchen, her mother still on call at the hospital, and on the day following she slipped a small bag of cookies into Mako’s bento box.

 

Six weeks ago. Neither mentioned it to Usagi or Rei or, later, to Minako. Nor, Ami realizes, did they ever mention it to each other.

 

There’s a low rumbling over the horizon; her enemies are coming. She reaches for one of the ice spikes to swing herself down, then pauses and presses a kiss to the back of Mako’s hand—the one she almost put on her forehead, six weeks ago, when she woke up to that gentle clink of metal, and didn’t for fear Mako would wake up and be angry. Ami basked in being _the tiny one who loves cats and can’t cook_ , and a thousand years wouldn’t be enough for her to be ready to risk adding angry words to it. _The weird one,_ she thinks. _The queer one._ Maybe, if Mako is still here, still watching her, she understands.

 

Ami hops off the ice tower; there’s no more time to sit and wish.

 

She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t say _I love you._

 

She doesn’t say _goodbye._


End file.
